


that song you're hearing

by littledust



Category: In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:04:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledust/pseuds/littledust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In December, Nina boards a plane with one messenger bag and one carry-on suitcase, the latter stuffed with small presents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that song you're hearing

In December, Nina boards a plane with one messenger bag and one carry-on suitcase, the latter stuffed with small presents. She tries to seal in some California sunshine, but it leaks out in the airport, between the teeth of the zipper. Her cheap ticket puts her in the back of the plane, window seat with a view of the plane's wing blocking the sky. She picks her way through a bag of complemintary peanuts, unable to sleep despite the hour. She's bringing dirty laundry and new textbooks; a mug painted in Stanford colors for her father and a mix CD that won't skip for her mother. She's bringing herself, too: grades that just pass muster for winning back her scholarship (solid B's and one C+), the coffee-and-bread smell of her barista job that never quite scrubs off, a slower pace to her English though Spanish spills from her at the same speed. Nina curls up in her seat, still sleepless. The peanuts do little to change the flavor of her thoughts: Christmas in the Heights without Abuela Claudia, without Rosario's, without the salon. Is it possible to be homesick for a place that will never be the same?

The plane touches down and Nina chews a piece of gum to relieve her popping ears. A tall, dark-skinned man in a suit helps her get her suitcase out of the overhead compartment, undoubtedly feeling sorry for the frizzy-haired girl in a ratty college sweatshirt. The gesture makes her blink away unexpected tears. A small act of kindness is what makes her cry, not the familiar skyline of New York City, not the thought of family and friends. Nina thanks him and dabs at her eyes with her sleeve. She has to laugh at herself; she's old enough to know how young she is.

Nina calls her parents as she makes her way to the baggage claim. Her father sleepily promises her a chauffeur and Nina smiles through the pang his words bring. This time, her chariot won't be a family taxi. Her mother makes her promise to wear a hat and scarf in case the cold air is a shock to her lungs. Nina touches the thin fabric already wrapped around her throat, her scarf providing fashion without warmth, and then picks up her bag. She's managed to forget the feel of winter. December is mild in her memories compared to January and February, but New York City is fifteen degrees colder than Stanford. Bags in hand, Nina pushes open the doors to the sidewalk beyond.

"Hey."

And there, lounging against a cab that must be his, is Benny. Benny, who she hasn't spoken to in two weeks between the craziness of finals week and him trying to start his own business. Benny, the reason she turned down the cute boy in her American political movements class. Only now all Nina can do is look at him, three thousand miles and fourteen days separating her from a boy (a man) wearing his best button-down shirt under an ancient green jacket, his best smile glowing above a scarf actually made for winter weather.

_Well, go on,_ Nina can hear the neighborhood saying, Abuela Claudia and Usnavi and Vanessa and the rest of the salon girls and all the others waiting on her to change the world. _¡Dale un beso!_

Laughing, Nina throws herself into Benny's arms and a kiss that goes on for so long that it draws a few catcalls from her fellow travelers. "I'm sorry I didn't call," Nina says, drawing back just enough to form words. "Passed all my classes this time, though."

"I made enough money to buy you one drink," Benny replies with a grin, taking off his knitted hat and tugging it over her ears. "Your mom gave me very specific instructions. Missed you."

"Let's go home," Nina says, and kisses him again, warm all over.


End file.
